The Cry of the Wolf
by IceQueen102
Summary: Written for the comment fic meme at the SansaxSandor LJ comm. AU - a sort of 'film Noir' version of ASOIAF, with Sandor as a private detective. Young and beautiful heiress Sansa Stark asks him to discover who murdered her father.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of ASOIAF. But you knew that. Worth for all the chapters.

A/N: Finally, I'll update my story all in one place. And if there are any new readers, I hope you enjoy it!

The Cry of the Wolf

I knew the woman was trouble the moment she walked through the door.

A dark, stormy Friday night. I sure didn't expect business, but there was nowhere else to go, really. What better way to end the week than in my comfortable chair at the office, listening to the rain as I poured myself some thirteen-year-old scotch? It was a surprise, therefore, when she walked in as I was lighting a cigar. She seemed straight out of a movie. Face hidden by a large hat with a net falling over her face, she wore a black jacket and a black pencil skirt. Her long, auburn hair was neatly brushed over her right shoulder, and her legs… god, she had long, creamy legs ending in a pair of black stilettos. The kind of legs you can't help but imagine around your waist, a hand on each delicate thigh. My Friday night had just gotten a lot better.

There was barely any light in the room, but I could still see her face as she took off her hat. It was a shot straight to my chest. I had thought her a woman, but in truth she could not be over sixteen, seventeen at most. A girl. Still, she was beautiful. She had bright eyes that I could guess were probably blue, and an air of innocence and naivety that made her all the more alluring. She looked quickly behind her. What did she fear? Then, at ease finally, she let her eyes rest on me. Her startled look and a little step back were just what I expected. What _she_ had expected, I could not say, but probably not me. I had been to hell and back, and had the scars to show it. The left side of my face was a ruin, my traitor of a brother's last gift for me, before I sent him to his never-too-early grave. I could scare some of the bravest men with just a stare, and in my line of work, well, let's say it can come in _very_ handy.

The girl took a deep breath, seemed to steel herself by brushing invisible wrinkles in her skirt, and finally spoke.

"Are you Detective Sandor Clegane?"

Her voice was melodious, the song of a nightingale on a summer night. Great, she had me sprouting bloody poetry now.

"It depends," I answered, "on what you need from me."

I let a slight smirk appear on my face. Have I mentioned I am a nasty bastard who likes to watch people squirm? And she seemed so easily scared! An easy prey for the guy people called The Hound. I had to remind myself how young she probably was.

"I have a case for you, Detective, if you'll take it." She answered, her voice still shy.

"First of all, girl, don't call me Detective," I clarified, choosing to ignore she had done it before, "reminds me of those sons of bitches at the Academy, and I never did graduate from it. All the better for it, those assholes are all corrupt good for nothings. Second, I'll take your case if it's worth my time and if, and only if, you're good for it. I don't do bloody charity."

"Oh, I have money," she hastily added, "Tons. My family is well off, Mr. Clegane, have no concerns, I can pay for what I'll request of you."

"And that would be…?"

"My father," she seemed to choke on the word and tears came to her eyes almost immediately. I prayed to whatever god was out there she wouldn't cry. I never did know what to do with crying women. "He was murdered. Everyone says it was a robber, a common thief that's already been arrested, but I don't believe it. I can't! I just… I can't explain it, but some things just don't fit!" She took a brisk step forward and put both her hands on my desk. I could tell she was making an effort to look me in the eye. "Please, Mr. Clegane, please, I need to know who killed him!"

It took all the strength in my body to not stare at her cleavage and focus on the task at hand. Her murdered father. Well, these days, the city was filled with stories like this. The crime rate was going over the clouds. Yet, as I watched her, something clicked. A rich young woman with long auburn hair. A murdered father. A robbery that was rumoured to be more than that. She had looked back, as if she was being followed.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

Sansa Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Clegane, are you all right?"

I had a hard time focusing after my realization. Of all the cases in the whole wide city… Eddard Stark's death had been well publicised over the past few weeks. The head of the old, prestigious and wealthy Stark family had been shot during an assault gone wrong as he walked home. It had been the one night he had given his chauffeur the night off. He had been rushed to the hospital but had been dead before he got there. His wife, Catelyn Tully-Stark survived him, along with their five children: golden boy Robb Stark, a rising star in the political world, tomboyish reluctant princess Arya Stark, also the source of all the Stark family's unfavourable headlines, young genius Brandon Stark, confined to a wheelchair after a strange accident, a young boy whose name he could not remember… and last but certainly not least, beautiful society darling Sansa Stark. The child-woman standing in front of me. This was certainly more trouble than it's worth.

Oh, her suspicions had merits, no doubt about that. Stark's death, his son's accident mere months earlier… the problem resided in all those who were connected to her. Her fiancée, to begin with. Because, with her identity, I realised that she was, indeed, engaged. And the lucky guy was none other than Joffrey Baratheon, the late Mayor's eldest son and all around nasty little creep. I should know, I had been employed as his bodyguard up until two years ago, before he met the Stark girl, and when he decided he was a grown man and had no need for a guard. I hadn't minded, really. The brat was as annoying as they came, and his mother, even worse.

But they had power, the Baratheons. Cersei Baratheon came from the wealthy Lannister family, and her father was none other than Tywin Lannister, business tycoon and big mob boss. Her husband, Robert Baratheon, Ned Stark's best friend, had been Mayor until his untimely death in a strange hunting accident. I had certain ideas about the subject, but I decided to see what the girl had in mind.

"This case you want me to take care of, do you have a suspect in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I… I do have some ideas… you see, first of all, my name is…"

"No need, birdie." I silenced her, "I know who you are."

"Oh," she didn't seem completely taken aback, "In that case… My father never approved of my relationship with Joffrey. He liked the Mayor well enough, but he couldn't stand Cersei, and, well… Joffrey is more his mother's son." She smiled bitterly. I couldn't help but feel she did not look the part of the happy bride-to-be. "A while ago, Father began some research. I don't know what it was about, but whatever it was must have been something regarding the company, as, after Robert's death, he abruptly put a stop to the merging of Stark Steel and Crowned Stag Railroads, and instead offered the deal to Arryn Airlines. I'm sure you must have read about that, it was quite the scandal."

I nodded. I never cared much for that kind of business, but it was hard to avoid the headlines. I was, however, surprised she seemed to be up to date with her family business.

"Well," she went on, "as Joffrey was now the head of the family company, he was terribly angry at my father. That was also the first time he… well…"

"Well what?"

Instead of speaking, she sat on my desk and turned the small light on in. For the first time that night, I saw her pretty baby blue eyes up close. But they were obviously not what she wanted me to see. She flipped her hair to her back, and I understood why a doll like her used her hair in a way the foolish girls her age did not favour. Even with powder on, I could not miss the blue colouring on her cheek.

"He hit you," he stated.

"Yes," she looked down, "I let him. I though it was best he took his anger out on me instead of my family. I was a fool, but what could I do? Only, a week later, Father was dead."

I stared at her for a long time. She still didn't look up. "Look, birdie, I get your story, but what I don't get is what you are doing here." I stood up and walked to my window. The rain was still falling hard. "Your brother is in the government, and your cousin Jon is going for Chief of Police, am I right?" she nodded. "What the hell do you want with me?"

"I know who you are," she muttered, "I know you worked for them. The Lannisters. You know how they move, how to talk to them. I can't have them know I suspect them. I have younger siblings, and I can't put them on the line. And the only reason neither Robb nor Jon have acted is because they don't want to put _me_ on the line." She finally looked up and approached me again. After a second's hesitation, she took my hand in hers. Her small hands were soft and warm on mine. "Please, Mr. Clegane, please. You are my only hope."

She had to know what she was doing, she had to. The silent entreaty in her eyes, her hands clutching mine… she was good.

"You silly little bird," I said at last, "you said it yourself: I worked for them. How do you know I won't stab you in the back and leave you to the Lions?"

"They said you were honest," she said, looking aside. "All those who met you while working for the Lannisters. Harsh, brutal and angry, yes, but honest." I wasn't surprised at her remarks; I had heard them for years at Casterly Rock, the family manor.

I took my hand back and left to light a cigar. I couldn't help but imagine the beautiful young girl's eyes lit up in gratefulness if I caught her father's killer. She'd be thankful, yes, perhaps she'd even… no, couldn't go there, not with the girl still in the room. And it was an insane idea. It'd probably end with both of us six feet under, counting roots beside her old man.

I took a paper and wrote a number.

"Half before I start, and the other half after I finish. You talk to no one; you discuss me with no one. We meet here unless I say otherwise and so help me god, you compromise this case in any way and I'll not risk one inch of my skin to save yours. Got it?"

I groaned as she left. I had a feeling thinking with my cock instead of my head was not going to end well.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday night. I decided to begin working the case right away. This family was dangerous, and there was no time to lose, more so if the creep kept abusing the little bird. I sat down on a shoddy diner writing down the basics, without much detail in case my notes were found. As I took a swig out of my second bottle of beer, I realised my guesses were not far from Sansa's. My main suspects were Joffrey and Cersei, both having taken over the company.

I left the diner to go to a slightly better place. A fancy little local called the Red Keep. The smell of cigars, alcohol and people assaulted me at once. I wasn't one for being surrounded by the crowd, but the drinks were good. I thanked fate every day that alcohol was legal now. I found my spot almost immediately. The woman beside me wore a modern, tight red dress. Her golden hair was at her shoulders and her very red lips held a cigarette.

Cersei Baratheon.

"Give me another, darling" she was telling the man behind the counter, as she pointed at her glass. As I sat, she whipped her hair and smiled, though it did not reach her emerald eyes, already hazy with drink.

"Well, well, look what the wind brought. Sandor Clegane. It's been awhile, Hound."

"Cersei," I greeted her, and asked the man in front of us for a scotch. As the tall, dark haired bartender left, I asked "New toy?"

She laughed.

"Oh, Osmund's a good lad, good with the drinks, and a real ducky shincracker. Joffrey's fond of him, too." She took the drink to her lips and gave me a sideway look. "He misses you, though, I'm sure he'd be real stoked if you came back to work for us."

I laughed roughly, knowing to others it was like steel grating on stone.

"Please. The only thing Joff ever cared about was how many guns I'd let him hold."

Her smile dropped, and when she spoke next, she was perfectly serious.

"He's head now. The business will get more dangerous, and we've got enough enemies as it is, but he won't listen. He is headstrong as all boys his age." She turned to face me. "I'm willing to give you a raise. Maybe even some extra benefits." She smiled again. I had been around her long enough to know exactly what kind of "benefits" she meant.

"Try your games with the poor brainless idiots that follow you around, woman. Thank God I know better. Get me a good, honest whore who wants only my money and I'll be better off."

"You and that mockery of honesty, please," she rolled her eyes, "get a moral compass and more money and you'd be Ned Stark."

Bingo.

"And then you could off me, like you did him?" I never _was_ good at beating around the bush.

"Stark died in a mug, everyone knows that." She stated, but her eyes were cold and calculating now.

"Did he, now? Days after he took the deal of a lifetime off the table," I took yet another drink. "Seems once good ol' Robert was gone, Stark wanted nothing to do with Baratheons. Or was it Lannisters? Word on the street is, he wanted Stannis as head of the company."

"Yes, and the lobster would have done _such_ a great job. Please. Besides, Joffrey is Robert's heir. Stark should have understood that."

"But he didn't."

"Men like that; it was all about his precious _honor_. If he had kept his mouth shut…"

"About…?"

Suddenly, the drunken haze was gone from her eyes. She sat straighter on her bench.

"Why are you asking so many questions? Did someone send you? Robb Stark, that Tully cow maybe?"

I raised my hand in a mock gesture of peace. "Calm down, Cersei. Just trying to make small talk. Damn you all, women, always paranoid about something." But I wasn't getting anything out of her now, I knew that, so I took one last drink, paid the bartender, and left. I hadn't missed the pair of mismatched eyes that had followed me back at the lounge, as I didn't miss now the tall man following me. Well, that one wasn't getting anything out of _me_. My feet automatically led me to my destination, where I was sure to lose my tail.

The Church of the Silent Brothers in Isle Street.


	4. Chapter 4

The place was rather packed for a Saturday night. I made my way through the aisle walking as straight as the alcohol would permit it, until I reached the confessional booth. I knelt on the wooden step.

"Forgive me, Father," I started, "for I have sinned."

"How have you sinned, son?" he answered. I smirked.

"Oh, well, where to begin? I'm drunk as a dog, I have indulged in fornication, I never attend mass, my thoughts are so impure they'd make a slut blush, I've killed more men than I can count, I curse regularly in front of women, I took candy from a kid the other day, and…"

"That's enough, for our Father's sake, Sandor." The priest interrupted me. I couldn't help but laugh as he left the booth. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, and a hard stare. He looked more like a soldier than a priest, and that was because he had been one. We had served together in the war, before they shipped me back. I turned to the drink, he turned to God. Everyone in his church called him "Elder Brother" and I had taken to call him that, too. He now looked at me with disapproving eyes.

"I would thank you watched your tongue in the house of our Lord, Sandor."

"Not _my_ Lord," I replied. "Is she here?"

"In the rectory, I thought it best she waited there, instead of in plain sight."

I thanked him and patted his shoulder as I left. The stairs proved a bit of a challenge, but the girl inside the rectory was one even more difficult. She looked lovely, a little angel in blue silk. She was taller than the average girl. _But not too tall for me. Never too tall for me._ God, I needed another drink.

"Good evening, Mr. Clegane," she greeted with a small smile. Somehow it made it worse.

"Spare me your courtesies, child," I said, a bit roughly maybe, as she flinched. "You have what I asked for?"

"Oh, yes," she recovered and took a large bag she had brought with her, rummaging through it for a while until she extracted a stack of papers. "This is all I could find, all that my father kept in his desk that was not bills, and company contracts. I hope it'll be good for something." She finished, wriggling her hands in front of her skirt. Why did she have to be so fidgety?

"We'll see about that" I left the papers on a nearby desk and sat on a chair. Sansa looked around, but there wasn't another chair and I as sure as hell wasn't giving her mine, so she ended up sitting in the desk. _Tough luck little bird, I'm the one that's drunk. _Plus, it gave me a nice view of her legs. I decided to start with what had happened earlier this evening.

"I met Cersei Lannister tonight, an entirely casual meeting, or so she'll think." Birdie seemed surprised. "Bitch's definitely hiding something, that's for sure. Couldn't get much out of the paranoid sorry bitch before she got her feathers ruffled"

"Do you have to use such language?" she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why? Do I hurt your sensibilities?" I sneered at her.

"No," she replied, "but we're in a _church_." She stressed the point, as if that would make me care. "That's blasphemy. You could go to hell for that."

"Really?" I asked, having a bit too much fun baiting her, "And who's going to send me there, little bird?"

She seemed puzzled I would even ask. "God, of course"

"What god?"

"The God that created us all."

I laughed out loud. Clearly, she had no idea what my ideas on the subject were. "There is no God, little bird, only men, and we're a perverted, fucked up race all right. What kind of God would create a monster like Joffrey, or my own brother?" I was talking too much now, but I didn't seem to be able to stop. "Strong arms and guns rule this world, don't ever believe any different."

She took a step back with a look half disgusted, half scared.

"You're awful." She stated, and then took her purse, ready to walk out of the door.

"I'm honest!" I yelled after her. "It's the world that's awful!" She was out of the door when I remembered the one other thing we needed to discuss. I ran after her and caught her wrist in the middle of the hallway leading to the stairs. I made her turn around.

"What?" she asked, and I could tell she was annoyed enough to forget her little courtesies. The rather steely look of her eyes and her pouting lips just made her all the more attractive. _I really shouldn't drink around her_.

"One last thing," I said, drawing her closer, more close than was strictly necessary, but, oh well. "I was followed tonight. Not by Cersei's men, mind you. The Imp."

"The Imp?"

"Do you have to repeat everything I say? Tyrion Lannister. He saw me at the lounge. You watch your step around him. I don't know what he knows, or if he's involved, but, unlike his sister, he actually has some brains, hateful little dwarf that he is. Be careful." By the time I said those last words, I was looming over her and my face was almost touching hers. I could feel her breath mingling with mine. One step closer and our lips would touch. Just one step forward.

I stepped back.

"That's all. Now run back to your cage."

If I had been slightly more sober, I would have caught the strange mixture of relief and disappointment in her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

All the week that followed I took care of examining the information Sansa had brought me. There was not one useful lead to follow. Whatever Ned Stark had found out, he had taken with him to his grave, which was no doubt exactly what his killers wanted to achieve. But it had to be something incredibly damaging. The way I saw it, Stark would have been more valuable alive. In time, Sansa could have been used to build a bridge between the companies, something Crowned Stag needed as their finances were not doing too good. With him gone, all chances of an alliance with Stark Steel and Arryn Airlines were doomed.

And then there was the girl. I met her, too, every day of the week. It wasn't necessary, but she didn't have to know that. I was fascinated by her. It was not only her beauty now (though I'll admit that was a big part) but I soon found she had a sweet, innocent nature I had not seen in too long a time. It was obvious she had lived a highly sheltered life. She was the kind of person that still believed _good guys always win_ and _crime always pays_, and all that stuff that life makes sure to beat out of you. Every time we spoke, a part of me wanted to smash that naivety, to force her to open her eyes and see things for what they really were, and another part of me wanted to protect her and make sure none of this world's dirt ever touched her. Those two impulses were always at war whenever I was around her, and it was bound to drive me crazy.

So there I was, pursuing a case that would probably be a dead end, for a girl that still seemed too scared to look at my face. God was I screwed! But I had given my word, which I didn't do often, but when I did, I came through. And I'd be paid well, that was always an incentive. I was thinking how to go about getting an interview with Joffrey when a loud knock at the door shook me from my thoughts. The person that came in my office was wholly unexpected.

"Well, isn't this a cosy little spot. You've done well, dog, barely no scratches in the furniture, how about that?"

I looked straight in front of me.

"Whoa, spirits!" I said. How he annoyed me! "Never knew this place was haunted, I should have a word with the landlord."

"God, aren't you hilarious? No, really, you should do stand-up. Though I do think the _circus_ would be more inclined to take you" Tyrion Lannister stated while he propped himself in the one other chair.

"The pot calling the kettle black. What are you doing here, Lannister?"

"Why, I was just in town and decided to make a gift to an old friend," He looked at me, taking a piece of paper from his pocket and giving it to me. "A ticket," he said, explaining, "for this Saturday's fundraising event in the City Hall. It'll be a ball, or so people say. And you didn't even have to pay for it!"

I snorted. Why the hell was he giving me this, anyway?

"Look, I don't know what game you're playing, Imp, but I have better places to waste my money and time."

Tyrion's eyes went serious, and when he spoke next all trace of mirth was gone.

"I don't have time to waste either, so I'll be brief. You can't have missed I've had you followed since I saw you chatting with Cersei at the Red Keep. Simply put, I know about your little deal with Sansa Stark. Wait," he said, as I was ready to talk back, "what she's asked of you, what she pays you, I don't know and I don't care. But I do have some sympathy for the girl. She's been through enough and anyone who has to bear with Joffrey in a daily dose deserves my admiration. I don't know exactly _what_ will happen, but I heard talk of 'taking care of that business with the Stark girl' that will happen during the fundraising. Since Joffrey's company is receiving funds from both my father's and his friend Mace Tyrell, I don't think I jump to conclusions when I guess she is no longer necessary. So be a good dog, and show up to the party. Armed."

The Imp left the chair and walked to the door. I took a chance before he left.

"Who killed Stark?"

"A crook, everyone knows that." He answered, his back to me.

"So you'll warn me the Stark girl is in danger, but you don't give a damn about justice for her father."

He turned around one last time, "I warned you because I care for the girl's wellbeing, not the Starks. You should know by now, I never bet against my own family."


	6. Chapter 6

The band was playing and people were already dancing when I got there, so I went straight for the drink before stopping myself. If the Imp had been right, I couldn't be in the cups tonight. Great. An entire evening surrounded by rich, boring business men with their rich, boring wives, and I had to be _sober_.

I caught sight of the little bird soon enough. She was dancing (not too enthusiastically) with Joffrey to Billie Holiday's "I'm gonna lock my heart". Oddly appropriate, really. I made my way to them. No point in trying to remain unnoticed; even if you don't count my scars, my height alone makes me conspicuous. It was Joffrey who saw me first.

"Dog! What are you doing here? Look, Sansa, it's my old bodyguard." He grabbed the girl's forearm and dragging her, approached me. Her face showed nothing but panic; she probably didn't know how she was supposed to react.

"Hi," I answered, looking uninterested.

"This is Sansa Stark," he said, "Say hello to him, Sansa"

Her voice was timid as she greeted me, and never lifted her eyes from the ground. He treated her like an inferior human being, and I could tell she tried to not to draw his attention much. If this is what she had to stand everyday then I really hoped Joffrey had killed Stark. Then I could lock the little creep forever and she'd be free of him.

Joffrey noticed the look in Sansa's face, and probably mistook the fear of being caught for the fear of my terrible face. Or so I hoped. His face lit up with evil glee, and I realised he enjoyed it. I made a plan.

"Hello, girl," I said, before turning to Joffrey again, "a nice little thing she is, Joff, congratulations. Dances prettily too, for what I could see. Perhaps you wouldn't mind lending her for a dance with an old friend?"

I could tell I hit the right spot. If Sansa hadn't looked as terrified as she did, he might have refused, but her dread made the sadist in him come out and play.

"Sure, why not? Dance with him, Sansa. And make sure you dance the entire song. She won't displease me, don't worry," he added, talking to me now, as if she wasn't even there, "she knows what happens to those who displease me." He smirked and looked slyly to where she was standing. Well, the mood I was in, that was as good as a confession. I'd lock him up anyway, I decided, guilty or not.

I took her to the dance floor. I was a lousy dancer, but I didn't care. I wanted to talk to the girl, and I had exactly one song to do so. "Lover Man" started playing on the background as we began dancing.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, little bird," I told her as I spinned her once, and then pulled her close again, "The Imp dropped by earlier this week, says you might be in danger tonight."

"What?" her eyes were wide and I could see the fear in them. "Oh God, he… Joffrey's been flirting all night with the Tyrell girl, you don't think…?"

She let the sentence trail off. I knew what she meant, and I agreed. Joffrey hadn't even introduced her as his fiancée. _Expendable, and changed for a shiny new toy_.

"I'll try to stay close all night," I told her, and she sighed with some relief, "I'll follow you when you leave, and don't go anywhere alone, you hear me?"

"But, when do you think they might try something?"

I would have answered, but then my eyes caught a man in a grey jacket, his right hand inside it, coming towards us. _Not now, surely he'd wait_… but this was Joffrey, crazy, unpredictable and not afraid of putting others in danger. I grabbed her arm.

"Let's go. Now!"

"But, why…?"

"You wanted to know when," I asked brusquely. "Now! He'll do it now!" Something shone silver in the man's hand and I knew we were out of time. I ran with the girl and turned a table in front of both of us as the first shot rang through the hall, and then a thousand screams sounded at once.


	7. Chapter 7

Bullets were flying above us. The hall was almost empty now as we shoot back and forth. Sansa was frozen beside me. I grasped her chin with two fingers, forcing her to stare at me. "Look at me! Dammit, look at me!"

Finally, she seemed to snap out of her daze. Her eyes focused on mine, and I could see she was terrified.

"Listen. When I say go, you run to your right, to the door beside the tables," I told her, pointing in the direction I wanted her to take, "you run, and you don't stop until I say so, all right?"

"But, what about you?"

"I'll be right behind you. You just do what I said."

I waited until the shots stopped to stand behind the table. I had no time to waste, I started shooting at our attackers, and when they both ducked, I bellowed "GO! NOW!"

She ran as fast as she could towards the door and I followed, covering our retreat. I knew we'd be chased. When we finally made it outside, I knew we had to be quick. I grabbed her by the arm and took us both where my car was parked.

"Can you drive?" I asked as I opened the driver's door.

"What? Yes, I guess, I mean…"

"Good, then get in there and drive!"

I shoved her inside and hurried to the companion's seat. I told her to go as fast as she could, and at the very moment we left the driveway, I caught sight of our pursuers. Unluckily for us, they saw us too. The first shot smashed the back window.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" Sansa screamed, and put her hands to her head. I managed to keep us from crashing with one hand and roughly shook her with the other.

"Don't take your hands off the wheel, dammit! Drive as fast as you can, doesn't matter where! I'll take care of them!"

She nodded, with tears in her eyes, while I charged my gun. While she drove, I turned back on my seat, snuck half my body out of the window, and began shooting back. My first two shots were practically useless, but the third hit the driver, and the last three hit the wheels. _One down, one to go. _I went back to the seat for more bullets when I realised we were driving through very narrow streets.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I don't know!" She yelled back. I could tell she was in hysterics. It was a miracle she could drive at all. One shot narrowly missed me, while another went straight through the car and smashed the windshield. It was time to end this. I turned around and fired at the tires. The car drove so fast it lost balance and smashed against a building, where it caught fire. I leaned back, finally breathing at ease. The little bird was still driving; her arms were stiff and tears were still rolling down her cheeks. She had a small cut on her forehead, probably from the glass.

We drove further until I made sure no one was behind us and then I told her to stop. We both left the car, and I took her face in my hands. She was crying but didn't seem to be aware of it. She was probably in shock.

"Listen to me," I told her, "We're taking a taxi, so no one can follow our trail. Keep your mouth shut, not a peep, the less clues we leave them the better."

After a few moments, she nodded stiffly and, taking her by the arm, we walked together until I saw a taxi coming near us. I gave the man the address, spun him some story about how I was taking my lady friend home after a night of too much drinking, and then I finally relaxed on the seat. Sansa perfectly supported the story without saying a word. Her head was rested on my shoulder and her eyes were closed. If not for her fast breathing, and her shaking, she could have been sleeping. At last we reached our destination.

"C'mon, girl." But she wasn't moving from her spot on the street. "What's the matter with you?"

She looked around with a lost stare, clutching her hands until her eyes settled on my face. She pointed at her feet and spoke in a low, soft voice.

"I lost my shoe."

That was all she said before she knelt on the ground, and promptly threw up.


	8. Chapter 8

"C'mon now, little bird, we need to get going."

I took her arm as she clumsily stood up again. She was tired, clearly, but at least her eyes were focused and she looked aware. I had to remind myself again how young she was, and that she, unlike me, had never been in such danger before. Wordlessly I knelt to take the one shoe she had left. I'd be easier to walk shoeless than in one high heel.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a thin voice.

"Just three blocks away from here. My apartment."

She took my arm and stared at me with something akin to anger in her blue eyes.

"Three blocks? Really? A taxi brought us here! Why couldn't he just leave us at your house?"

Ah, Sansa Stark, ever the princess.

"I'd rather no one followed us. I'd think you would agree, or do you want someone like that Trant bastard to take you back to Joff?"

After that, not a word was spoken until we reached my place. This was the bad part of town, and while I had some money saved, I wasn't going to be spending it in some bloody huge apartment I wasn't going to use half of. It was probably nothing like the places my little guest was used to. As we walked in, she looked round, taking in the small living room, the even smaller kitchen, and the two doors that led to the bathroom and bedroom.

"Well, this is…" she began, trying her best to be kind, no doubt "it looks quite… comfortable".

I laughed roughly. "Spare me your polite chirping, little bird, it's small and cramped, but it's clean and it's home, and most importantly, no one knows I live here."

"Oh…" I could tell she felt awkward and out of place, "well, maybe I should try and get a taxi now. I should go home…"

"Home? You can't go home right now."

I knew I surprised her, but honestly, I had imagine she would have understood she could not, by any means, go anywhere else, at least for the night. I proceeded to explain.

"Listen to me, Sansa. Home? Don't you think that's the first place where they'll look? Here, however… only the Imp might know I live here, since he had me followed, and last I checked, he was on our side where your safety is concerned. No, you'll stay here tonight and I'll take you personally to your place tomorrow."

"You? But I thought no one was supposed to know…"

"Change of rules, birdie, everyone saw me saving your life tonight. I'm pretty sure all secrecy just went the hell out of the window."

She seemed to consider my proposal carefully, until she understood it was her only choice for the moment. In truth, I could probably come up with a better arrangement if I had tried, but I was tired, and there was no way in hell she was getting out of my sight after what had happened.

"All right." She finally said. "We'll go to Winterfell in the morning. Maybe Mother will help; she might know things I don't. And Petyr will probably be there, and he's pretty smart…"

She trailed off, and suddenly my internal alarms went off all at once. I turned to her so fast my neck creaked loudly.

"Petyr… that wouldn't happen to be Petyr bloody 'Littlefinger' Baelish, accountant and minor shareholder in Crowned Stag Railroads, right?"

She hesitated, as if she had only just now seen the connection.

"He's Mother's childhood friend, and he's close to the family."

I massaged my temples. It was fishy, too fishy, but for the life of me I could not stop and think about any possible significance for it. I was just too damn tired.

"Oh, hell. You know what? I'll deal with this tomorrow. For now, new rule, little bird. Full disclosure."

It was then, as I sat in my couch, that I took notice of her appearance for the first time that evening. Her pretty champagne dress was dirty in the knees, she was barefoot and her hair was a tangled mess. Her eye makeup had run with her tears, and she still had some blood in here forehead. She was a disaster, so how was it that I still found her beautiful? Not that I'd tell her that, though.

"You look awful." I said, and by her look of defiance I guessed she knew that. "You want to take a bath?"

"I…" she fidgeted "I do not have any clothes to change into."

_Hardly a problem the way I see it_. God damn me! I had to control myself! It was the adrenaline, I was sure of it. It was the blood boiling by the heat of the battle or some sort of half-assed reasoning like that. Instead I said "I'm nearly seven feet tall, I'm sure I could find a shirt that'll look a dress for you."

She smiled, relieved.

"That would be most kind of you, thank you."

I found her an old white shirt and a pair of maroon pants I used no longer, along with a belt- I handed her the clothes and a towel, and as she was going into the bathroom, I called her.

"Sansa…"

"Yes?" she said, turning her head back. I thought of a thousand things I wanted to tell her. How I was glad she was all right, how well she had done tonight all things considered, how terrified I had been, terrified as I hadn't felt in years for reasons I was too scared to consider…

"Make sure you clean that cut right."

She smiled and nodded, and when the door was closed I leaned back on the sofa, my eyes shut. Too much trouble, she was.

More than an hour later, Sansa was clean and sleeping in my bed. Alone. I too had bathed. My suit had been replaced by a plain white sleeveless shirt and black pants, and I was on the sofa with a blanket. I tried, to no avail, to make myself comfortable in my own couch but I gave up after a while, and instead poured myself some scotch. Had it been any other night, there's no way I would have given up the bed without a fight. Hell, I would have insisted to share it and would have gotten a laugh out of her discomfort. I wasn't the kind of "gentleman" that would just leave the enormous, heavenly bed to the pretty lady, but tonight I felt she had been through enough. Her innocent young mind would have had a fit if she had to share a bed with a man who was practically a stranger, let alone someone who looked like me. It was enough to give her nightmares, and she'd have enough of those.

I was taking another drink when I heard her soft footsteps behind me, and then her voice.

"Sandor…"

"Mmhm?" I answered, without looking her way.

She fell silent for a while and I thought she would not say anything, when she finally whispered.

"Thank you, for tonight. You saved my life."

I felt as if I was made of stone. What was I supposed to answer? I took another drink.

"Why do you whisper? There's no one else here."

She walked over where I was, and sat on the other side of the couch. "I don't know," she said, "I guess I feel I have to whisper when it's dark. When I was a little girl and I had nightmares, I used to sneak out of my room and go to Robb's bed, and I'd always whisper so Mother wouldn't catch me. I guess it stuck." She smiled as she told me that. It was clear as day she loved her brother dearly. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"My sister used to do the same thing."

"I didn't know you had a sister." Her smile widened as she tucked her legs under her. "Where is she now?"

"Dead." I took another drink. Her smile was gone in an instant, and I offered her a glass she took gingerly.

"I'm… so sorry. Is that how you got your scars?" Her left hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, god I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

I was silent for a long time, just nursing my drink. She did the same, her eyes on her knees and her right hand taking the scotch to her mouth in little sips.

"I was around eight." My voice surprised her, and she looked up. "My brother was thirteen. When Christmas came, I got a small model car, and Gregor, he got a soldier puppet made in wood. To me, it was the most wondrous thing I had seen. You could make him move with a bunch of string… I wanted the puppet, and Gregor, he was too old for toys, so it was always just laying there. So one day, while he was out, I took the puppet, only he came home earlier and caught me." I grimaced, the memory stuck in my mind, clear as if it had been yesterday. "He never said a word, just took me by the neck and held my face to the dying fire in our room. It took three men to get him off me and I laid almost dead in a hospital for almost a month. My father, he told everyone my bed had caught fire." I lowered the glass; else I knew I'd break it. "You see, dear Gregor couldn't afford a spot in his record, not if he wanted to get in the Army. And he did, and got promoted, and became bloody Captain Clegane. What a joke. I got my revenge though."

"How?"

"During the war, word came someone was selling information. Turns out, bloody buggering Captain Gregor was working for the Nazis. I was the one who caught him. He resisted, of course, just as I had hoped. He was strong, but I was strong and fast. We fought until finally, my knife went through his throat and then he was dead."

I stopped speaking. I wondered, what would she think of me now? I had murdered my own brother. She'd probably think I was a beast, a heartless murdered, which in my own personal opinion was not too far off the mark. I expected her to walk back to the room and lock the door.

"He was… he was a monster."

I smiled bitterly. "And I killed him. What does that make me?"

"Human."

She surprised me. She was looking at me and there was, for the first time, not a trace of fear or disgust in her eyes. It wasn't pity, either. It was something I couldn't decipher. I took one last shot from my glass and avoided her eyes, feeling an unfamiliar sting in mine. I hated the feeling and yet it warmed me. I wanted to kill her for the forgiveness she showed and kiss her for it all the same.

"They'll go down, I promise you that." I managed to say, changing the subject. "No one will hurt you again or I'll kill them."

She looked sadly at me.

"But how? They have too much power, they are too well protected."

"Let me tell you something. No matter how powerful a man, no matter how many loyal followers he has or how much money, a dagger goes through their hearts all the same. Or a bullet. Death comes for us all in the end, birdie."

"All men must serve. And all men must die." She whispered. When I looked at her, puzzled, she explained. "It's something my sister says sometimes."

"And she'd be right."

Neither of us said another word that night. We both sat there, in silence, until I glanced at my side to find Sansa fast asleep. I lifted her in my arms and took her to the bed. _Such a fragile little thing_, I thought. _Here in the summer, but she'll fly away in winter. All birds do._


	9. Chapter 9

The scene that welcomed me as I walked through the door that morning was something I would have never expected to see in my life. And I'll have you know I've walked into all kinds of situations in different places I've lived in. But this was the first time I walked in to find a beautiful woman setting plates at _my_ table, wearing _my_ clothes, and actually _smiling_ at me when she noticed me.

Bloody buggering hell.

"Good morning!" she chirped happily. "I woke up and noticed you weren't here, but you hadn't taken your gun, so I assumed you wouldn't be gone for long. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of making some breakfast." She said all this while going in and out of the kitchen, carrying different things that looked edible. "You do need to buy more food, though. The state of your supplies is just _awful_!"

Of all the thoughts dancing through my head, I could only utter one.

"You can cook?"

She straightened and smiled more brightly, something I could not have thought possible.

"I know how to make some things. Of course, I could never come up with a five-course dinner, but breakfast is not so hard!" She sat and motioned me to do the same. I was still too stunned to raise hell for being given orders in my own house.

"So, how is it?" she asked anxiously.

"You've burned it some, but it's edible." I muttered.

It was delicious, actually.

We ate in silence after that. The simple everyday feeling of the morning was giving me the creeps, so I stood up after eating as fast as I could, took the bag I had brought with me, and threw it in her lap.

"What's this?" She said, standing up as well and peering into the bag.

"Clothes," I answered, "Don't know if they'll fit you, but you can be damn sure it's better than taking you to your mother's in what you are wearing right now."

She smiled "Oh, I don't know. I rather like it. I look a bit like Marlene Dietrich like this, don't you think?" She turned in her spot, whipping her hair around her and giving me her best sultry look.

Damn her. Damn her to infinite! I briskly took the bag and threw it to her, and told her to get dressed. I needed to take her back to her home, to her manor and her pretty things and hopefully she'd realise the difference between us and stop acting as if she was actually happy to be around me. There was a limit to what my sanity could take.

The car was in a deplorable state, but between bringing it back and getting her clothes, there had been no time to try and fix it. We got in and I drove silently to her place, or as silently as I could while she kept trying to make conversation. Finally, and not a moment too soon, we reached the iron gates of Winterfell Manor.

The maid that opened the door was shocked to see her young mistress.

"Miss Stark! Oh, dear, what happened? We were all so worried miss! Your mother was just about to call the police!"

I rolled my eyes, but Sansa calmly dismissed the maid and led us both to the garden where her mother was apparently sitting in distress. When we got there, and Catelyn Stark caught sight of her daughter, she shrieked very unladylike and jumped to embrace her.

"Sansa! My girl, where were you? Where have you been? I've been so worried!" It was then she took notice of me. "And who are you? What are you doing with my daughter?"

I couldn't answer because another voice interrupted.

"That's Sandor Clegane, Cat. An old Lannister-Baratheon employee and… private detective, is it now?"

I knew that voice, of course. It was impossible to mistake the slimy tones of Petyr Baelish. I turned around and, sure enough, there he was standing. He nodded at me and then looked at Sansa.

"It's good to see you're safe, sweetling. Your mother was quite worried about you. We heard about yesterday."

Mrs Stark cleared her throat. "I think an explanation is clearly needed, especially taking into account your particular… escort, Sansa." She looked at me with disgust, a sour expression that made her resemblance to her daughter diminish greatly. "Did Joffrey Baratheon send you?"

I snorted. "What makes you think that?"

"Joffrey and his mother, Cersei," she almost spat the name, and against my will I found myself liking the Stark woman, "they were here early morning. They were, apparently, very worried about you because you had disappeared after the shooting. I had thought you were with them, or I would have called the police earlier. They told me to call if you came back. Not that I will, of course. Who does that woman think she is?"

She began a tirade against Cersei but I wasn't paying attention anymore. I exchanged a dark look with the little bird. Obviously I had been right about not coming back here last night.

"Mother," Sansa interrupted her, and she motioned us to take a seat. "I'll explain everything, but you have to promise you'll understand, and that you'll not get angry with me, all right?"

Littlefinger made as if to leave, but Catelyn stopped him. "No, Petyr, stay. Something is going on here and I might need your advice."

"Very well, I just didn't want to be in the middle, Cat. This seems to be a private family matter." He didn't make another move to leave, and I just knew the bastard wanted all the information he could get. But I couldn't say anything against him as Mrs Stark clearly trusted the git.

Slowly, Sansa began telling the story, since the night she hired me, to the shooting the night before. Her mother seemed to grow angrier with every word, and when she stopped talking, Catelyn started.

"I can't believe this! If this had been Arya, I might have expected it, but you? You went behind my back, hired a man of dubious reputation," I wasn't arguing with that one, "and got into god knows what kind of trouble! You almost died yesterday, Sansa!"

"That wasn't my fault! Mother, Joffrey wanted to have me killed because he had a better bride prospect in sight, not because he thought I was investigating him!"

"Which he clearly knows now! Do you realise in how much danger you've put yourself in? I've already lost your father, I can't lose you too, Sansa!"

"You won't! You won't, mamma, I promise! But, don't you want to know who really killed father?"

"I do, I do, dear, but not if it means losing my children. Let Robb take care of it, let someone else do it."

Sansa looked at her mother with teary eyes. "No, please, I've started this, I know we can find something, don't make me stop, mother, please!"

"And what do you intend to find, Sansa? Your father never told me what he was working on, it's a dead end. Isn't it, Mr. Clegane?" Catelyn Stark now turned to me, obviously trying to find someone to support her argument. I didn't know what to do. On one hand, there were still many avenues of investigation to pursue. On the other hand, this was getting dangerous, and was becoming way too personal for me. Stark was giving me the perfect excuse to get away from this case and the little bird. But her eyes, Sansa's eyes, they looked at me pleadingly, begging, and what could I do against that look?

"I still have people to interview. And your daughter's already paid me half. I will keep on investigating, but," I halted her with my hand, "Sansa doesn't have to participate in the case. She has given me all the information she has. She can stay home like a good little girl and I'll take care of the rest."

Catelyn smiled.

"That's settled then," Sansa crossed her arms and pouted.

"I'll be leaving, then," I said, and when I rose, Baelish stood up as well.

"I'll walk you to the door, Clegane; I have things to do too."

Sansa stood up too and left the garden. The three of us walked towards the door. Sansa avoided my eyes and I could tell she was angry at me. When we got to the door, Baelish turned to me, a sly look upon his face.

"Since you will continue working on this case, Clegane, perhaps I could be of help," he leaned on the doorframe. "There's someone I'm sure you weren't planning to question, but he might have an interesting story to share with you."

I raised my good eyebrow.

"Stannis Baratheon. Robert's brother. He never got along with Ned Stark, you know, but suddenly, weeks before his death, they became close."

"Spare me the long explanations, Baelish, what do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he said, smiling, "the information you want, whatever Stark knew and wasn't sharing, Stannis knows it as well. They were working on it together."

I looked at him suspiciously. "And why would you tell me this? Why not tell the police?"

He never stopped smiling. "The police never came asking, and," he came closer, with an earnest look in his face that felt fake to me, "I know you don't trust me Clegane, and frankly, it's probably wise, but I have no reason to give you a false lead. Believe it or not, I'd do anything to help Cat and her family."

"I'll go too," said Sansa from behind us.

"No way, no fucking way, girl." I said.

"Father always said Stannis was a hard man. He'll never talk to you, but he might talk to me. Please?"

"It might not be a bad idea." Littlefinger answered.

"What about your mother?" I asked her, hoping this would stall her. Unluckily for me, Baelish played against me.

"Don't worry about that. Sansa will be visiting her very pregnant friend Jeyne. She won't be home for a couple of hours."

I didn't like the smell of all this, but I knew, at least, Baratheon had nothing to do with Lannisters, so there was no danger there. I grudgingly accepted and left to the car, with the girl behind me, all smiles as if she was going on a picnic. She went on and on about what _we_ should do, what _we_ should ask, which roads _we_ should take, and I realised it was time to slam the brakes.

"Shut up, for hell's sake, girl."

She looked at me, puzzled. I turned to her with as much anger as I could muster.

"What do you think this is? Some kind of movie, 'the adventures of Hound and Bird', starring Humphrey bloody Bogart? This is a case, a very real one, in case the bullets flying over your head yesterday didn't clue you in, and I'm in charge. I'm not your brother, nor you fucking friend. I'm not a fluffy little puppy you can take home and pet." For good measure, I took my gun from the holster and lifted it, pointing to the ceiling. "See this? I could snuff your life in a second. I'd do it, too, if I had to, make no mistake." She wore a terrified expression now, and perhaps I was going too far, but she had to understand. "But I'll get my job done. After that, you'll pay me my other half and you'll never see my ugly mug again, and we'll both be happier for it. Am I clear?"

She looked down, and when she looked front again, I could see her features betraying nothing.

"Of course. I apologize if I displeased you, Mr Clegane."

Her voice was small and it reminded me intensely of the way she had acted in front of Joffrey. I felt like shit, and my throat felt as if on fire, but it needed to be done. I was never going to be her friend, and a girl like her was obviously better off far away from a basket case like me.

"Don't waste your courtesies on me, girl." I said before starting the car. "Save them for Baratheon. Something tells me you'll need them."


	10. Chapter 10

It took probably the most uncomfortable two hours in my adult life to get to Stannis Baratheon's dwelling, a grand manor, as befitting of a "man of his standing". It stood tall on elevated ground, and with a gravel road on each side, it gave it the look of a castle on top of an island. I parked on the left and we both walked silently to the door. Sansa smoothed her hair and dress, and raised a delicate hand to knock. We did not have to wait long before hearing steps, and then the door opened to reveal an old man, walking with a cane.

"May I help you?" He said.

"Good morning," Sansa answered. I though it'd be best to let her handle this for the time being. She was much more skilled at dealing with people than I was, especially people like Stannis Baratheon. "I'm looking for Stannis Baratheon. My name is Sansa Stark, and he knew my father. Is he home?"

"Wait just a moment, miss."

The man retreated, and did not come back for a while. I leaned on the wall while she resolutely kept looking at the wooden door. She had not spoken to me since we had taken the road, and I had made no effort to get her to talk. All for the bloody best, I though. My own words kept replaying in my head, and I wished I could think of something else, but then what? I become her little friend, we get together for tea parties and shopping sprees? Not bloody likely. What I wanted from her she would never give. _Think of something else_. I turned to look at her.

The man came back just in time before I did something stupid.

"I'm sorry, Miss Stark, but Mr. Baratheon is currently indisposed and cannot see anyone at the moment."

"Mr…"

"Cressen," the man answered.

"Mr. Cressen. Forgive me, but we drove a long way to see Mr. Baratheon. Please, do tell him how important this is. Tell him it's about justice. Tell him it's about… getting back what's rightfully his. Please."

Cressen nodded and left once again. I looked at her, surprised. She had chosen the exact words that would probably get Baratheon to talk. I had to admit, she was craftier than I thought.

Finally, Cressen came back and led us inside the house, telling us Stannis was waiting in one of the sitting rooms. When we finally got there, the butler bowed and left us. Stannis Baratheon was standing in front of the furthest window. He was a tall, balding man, and when he turned I could see his eyes were tired. He was not happy with my presence there, I could tell.

"Miss Stark," he said, in way of greeting, "I was sorry to hear about your father. We were not friends, but his death was an injustice. My condolences."

"Thank you, Mr. Baratheon," she said, bowing her head respectfully.

"And you." He turned to me now. "I remember you from my brother's household, years ago. I have no business with Lannisters, or their dogs."

"Good thing I'm neither, then." I said.

"He's working for me," Sansa stated, with a haughty air that I somehow felt was directed to me. "I'm investigating my father's dead, and I think the Lannisters might be behind it."

"The same Lannisters you will soon marry into, Miss Stark?" Stannis asked bluntly.

"No, I do not think that will be happening anymore," Sansa answered calmly, "and besides, it was a Baratheon that I was to marry, not a Lannister."

Stannis made a strange noise with his tongue. "Please, Miss Stark, that boy is no Baratheon, no more than I am a Lannister. Why are you here?"

She glanced at me for half a second, before she said, "My father though it ought to be you instead of Joffrey in charge of Crowned Stag. He took his deal to the Arryn's some days after Robert's death, which makes me think he had certain information that made the deal fall through. We were told you might know what that information was."

Another man might have kept his tongue, but Stannis Baratheon was blunt, and ready to share information that would get him his "birthright" as he'd have called it. I felt I knew what he would say a second before he said it.

"Eddard Stark," he started, taking a seat, "and I began to investigate some serious claims some months ago. Simply put, we began suspecting Cersei's children were not Robert's. After some time of putting together information, your father confronted that woman for the truth. Instead of denying it, she confirmed our suspicions. Her three children were fathered by Jamie Lannister. Her twin brother."

Sansa gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. This was probably too horrible, too perverted a thing for her delicate young mind to understand. I cannot say I was entirely surprised. There had always been something weird between those twins, I knew that, and Joffrey had always resembled his uncle in looks a little too much.

"My father… he knew this?"

"He told the Lannister woman to take her children out of the country before he told Robert. He was well aware of my brother's temper. Only Robert died soon after, and when your father realised he had no proof but Cersei's confession, he took his deal elsewhere, and we had to figure out another way to get that unnatural monster out of my company."

"But her father was murdered, and he never told anyone what he knew." I added.

"And now my company is the one that's in danger. Stark died before the deal with Arryn was finalized, something your brother took care of doing. He should have never done that. He should have waited until we could prove what we knew and then complete the deal with Crowned Stag Railroads and Stark Steel. Eddard Stark's move with Arryn was a way to try and get Cersei to wake up and realise she would lose the company if she did not relinquished it to the true head of it."

Stannis took a breath before adding.

"I have nothing else for you, young lady. I truly hope you can have those traitors arrested." He stood up. I knew a dismissal when I saw one, and so did the girl. She thanked him for his help and we left, Sansa promising we'd do our best to have them arrested.

We showed ourselves out and got in the car. It was past midday, but the clouds in the sky had darkened the day. It was obvious a storm was approaching.

I didn't start the car immediately. Instead I turned to look at her, and she did the same.

"Cersei did it. She had to," she said, with no preamble, her silent treatment forgotten. "If my father had this information, she would have wanted him gone."

"It looks that way," I agreed, "but the company's going to the dogs. You saw the bitch fit Stannis had over the Arryn deal. Maybe they thought with your father gone, your brother could be convinced to go back to Crowned Stag."

This was no good. We had information, but no concrete evidence. The little bird seemed to notice it too. We needed to do something. Not just sit around and talk to people. I started the car and began driving, taking the girl home. By the time we were halfway there, I had formed a plan. By the time I left her home, she had agreed and we would take the steps necessary to make it work as soon as possible.

I drove off just as the first drop fell through the broken windshield, right on my face. It was the sound of thunder that announced the storm's imminent arrival.


	11. Chapter 11

Once the week began, so did the scheming. I had never been good with the slow burn entrapping of my enemies. I preferred the old "walk in and shoot 'em dead" way, but this was about keeping the little bird and her family safe, and end this once and for all, so of course we had to go the complicated way.

The most important part of the plan was to keep Tywin Lannister occupied while we took care of Joffrey and Cersei. If the Lannister patriarch sensed any foul play regarding his daughter and grandson, he was sure to intervene, and we couldn't afford that. That was when the first player came in: Robb Stark. The Stark boy was hungry for any kind of justice he could obtain for his father, so he agreed immediately. He was to hold a business meeting with the man and make sure to keep him busy. He also made preparations to get his mother and siblings out of town, just in case something went awry. Sansa's younger sister, Arya, had put up a fight at that, and had only relented when she was allowed to stay with her cousin Jon instead, something I could see was not to Mrs Stark liking.

Snow was the second player in this madness. We would need the law enforcement on our side if we wanted to make sure Stark's killer didn't just walk away. Jon Snow had made sure to speak with every member he considered could be trusted with the information, including the current Chief of Police, Old Bear Mormont. He would place the people in the places we needed them. Snow was a self-righteous brat, and I hated him on sight, but we needed him so I had to shut my mouth.

The last player was, to my chagrin, Littlefinger. The most untrustworthy git I had ever met. I sure as hell hadn't wanted to let him in on anything, but damn Catelyn Stark had seen through one of the biggest flaws of my plan and there had been no other choice left. Littlefinger had brought what seemed to be the solution: an unexpected contribution by Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother, Olenna.

The plan was pretty simple, and with too many things that could go wrong. It relied almost entirely on Joffrey's arrogant nature and Cersei's motherly instinct. It would go down on Friday night, so I met with Mrs Stark, Littlefinger and Sansa on Thursday afternoon. Mrs Stark was almost ready to leave to Riverrun, her father's manor on the outskirts of the city. Sansa was there, too, sitting with her mother on one side, and Baelish on another. We had spoken some during the days that followed our interview with Stannis, and she had always been unfailingly polite. I had managed to keep myself in check, mostly, something which made me rather proud.

"Let's revise it again," I said as we sat around the table in one of the rooms of the house. The garden had been made inaccessible by the heavy rain that had been falling over the city all week long. "I will be with one of Snow's men watching the doors of the private lounge at Maegor's Holdfast. The other man will be in the room next to Joffrey, ready to act."

"And Jon will be waiting outside the Red Keep for Cersei," Sansa put in.

"If everything goes well, Cersei will be arrested by midnight, charged with my husband's murder and Tywin Lannister won't be any the wiser," Catelyn Stark sighed. "God Willing."

"Nothing to worry about, Cat," Littlefinger added, taking her hand in his. "Olenna Tyrell will make sure Margaery comes through, you'll see. She was appalled when she heard of his treatment of Sansa; she won't let that little monster get his hands on her beloved granddaughter."

"Like I couldn't do for my own daughter," Mrs Stark whispered, and then she shook her head and stood up. "Very well. You have my father's number, Petyr. When this nightmare is over, call us, please. Sansa," she said finally, turning to her daughter. "Come on. Get your luggage, we need to go."

The little bird stood up as well, a perfectly polite "Yes, Mother," coming from her mouth even though it was clear she did not want to leave just when things were coming to a close. I wouldn't argue though. She'd be safer at Riverrun and I'd work better knowing she was out of harm's way.

"Just a moment, Cat," Littlefinger interrupted, "there's one little detail."

Suddenly I wanted to punch him, square in his smug face. I knew I wouldn't like whatever was coming, but I never imagined it'd be what it was.

"Olenna Tyrell will help, yes, but as you can imagine, it's not Cersei she's interested in getting behind the bars. She needs Joffrey out of the way too, and there's only one way to achieve that." He turned to look at Sansa. "Sansa, sweetling, I know this will be hard on you, but I'm afraid you'll need to stay. Once Cersei is arrested, you will have to come with me to the station and make a statement on Joffrey's actions towards you, including what happened at the fundraising. Then he'll be charged with attempted murder, and both will be out of our way."

I saw red. The little bird had to get out of town, now! Instead, this asshole was leaving her in the thick of things! It seemed for once, Mrs Stark and I were of one mind.

"Petyr, surely you can't expect her to stay! I'll bring her back later, and she can make the statement then."

Baelish shook his head. "By the time Joffrey's safely out of the country? I'm sorry, Cat, but all we have on our side is the element of surprise. If I cannot ensure the Tyrell woman Sansa will provide the declaration, she will not let Margaery go through this. Don't worry, though," he added, "she'll be with me the entire time. I will protect her as if she was my own daughter; you know that, my dear friend."

By that time, my hands were clutching the chair so strongly I was sure I'd break it. I didn't like this. I knew it made sense, and Tyrell had probably requested that, but I felt in my gut something was wrong. But what could I do with just my instinct?

"I'll stay," Sansa said, and hugged her mother. "I'll be okay, Mother, I promise. I will not leave Petyr's house until it's safe to go to the station. I won't be in any danger."

"I'll wait for them at the station," I added, sending a silent challenging look to Littlefinger. "I'll make sure they come and leave safely."

Finally, Mrs Stark reluctantly agreed. As there was nothing else to talk about, I decided to take my leave. The little bird walked me to the door herself.

"Will Jon give you enough men, in case Joffrey doesn't go alone?" She asked, once we reached the threshold.

I laughed. "I don't need 'enough men', little bird. Whatever Joffrey throws at me, I can take care of." I let out a short bitter laugh as a sudden thought came to my head. "Unless they're on fire."

"Oh." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She was simply dressed, no make up, and still lovely. She opened the door, and when I went outside, she took her trenchcoat from a hanging near the door and followed. It was dark now, the rain was still falling, and soon both our trenchcoats were soaked. The dim lights of the street lighted her face and I could see that she intended to follow me to the end of the street. I turned to her, both my hands in my pockets.

"You want to say something, birdie. Well?" she looked at me, doubtfully. "Out with it girl, I haven't all night."

She hesitated a moment before speaking. "You are a liar," she finally said. "You claim you're honest but you're not. Not always. You said you could hurt me, kill me even, but I don't believe you."

I stepped closer to her until I had her trapped between me and a wall at her back.

"Really? You don't believe me, little bird?"

I saw her swallow but her eyes did not waver. "No, I don't. But I don't know if you lie to me… or to yourself." Her eyes were steely and she went on. "You're running away, Sandor. Ever since… the shooting. What are you so scared of?"

Whatever she was playing at, I wasn't having it. I was tired and luckily for me this farce would end soon. Otherwise, she'd be the end of my sanity.

"Damn you!" I spat at her. "Damn you thrice over, girl! You want honesty? Truth? Well, how about this?" I leaned over her until our noses were practically touching. Instead of yelling, as I had done all too many times, I now whispered. "Do you know what a man like me could do to a pretty thing like you? Do you have any idea…?"

Our eyes were still locked and suddenly, all the anger had gone from me, replaced by that yearning I had become so familiar with. I took one strand of her auburn hair between my fingers and kept talking softly, unable to stop. The dam had broken, and all that I had kept bottled inside came rushing out. "What could a man like me want with a girl like you? You, with your smiles, and your courtesies, always chirping sweetly away like a little summer bird, have you no idea what you do to men like me? And better, and worse?"

Her eyes widened, and I knew I should stop, but I was too far gone to do so now.

"You try my patience at every turn, little bird. I only had nights for hell before but now hell is _every fucking hour of the day_." I closed my eyes and I could feel my forehead touching hers, her slow breathing over my lips, and the rain drenching us both. "You say I'm running away? Damn right I am! 'Cause I'm old and wise enough to know that I should. I know what I want, damn me, but I do." I opened my eyes again, staring deep into her soul. "What do _you_ want, Sansa? And don't lie to me now. A dog like me can smell a lie, you know."

She hesitated, her blue eyes fixed on mine. She closed her eyes and for a long time none of us said a word until finally, she opened them. All I could see in those lovely blue orbs was pain, and as she placed her hand over my cheek, she whispered, "I… don't know."

I laughed roughly and stepped away from her. "Of course you don't know!" I threw my arms in the air, thoroughly frustrated. "Well, that's your bloody problem, after all, isn't it? You keep playing, and talking, but at the end of the day _you don't know what you want_!"

I approached her again, and cupped her face with both of my hands, as gently as I could.

"I'll tell you what you want, girl. You've lived all your life in that pretty cage of yours and all of a sudden you've gotten a taste of the adventure, and danger, and you've gotten swept up by it. But sooner rather than later the game will get old, and you'll get tired and you'll go back to your golden prison, where everything's comfortable and safe." I smiled sadly. "But I won't. This is my life, birdie. Every day, every night. This is me," I pointed to the burnt side of my face, "and it doesn't get any better. And I know you don't want _that_, so get real, go to your safe house, and hopefully by the end of tomorrow we'll part for good, in my terms, when I want it. Call me selfish," I released her, but I didn't look away, and I knew she had to be able to see the pain in my eyes. Every word I uttered was a blow to my pride, but they needed to be said, "But I'd rather not give _you_ the option of being the one walking away. You'll survive it better, trust me."

With that, I turned and left. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her, standing where I left her, the rain being the only thing still connecting us as the distance between us grew further with every step I took.


	12. Chapter 12

I nursed a drink in my hand, not really looking at it, or even intending to drink it. I barely paid any attention to the man sitting at my right or the people behind me. I just watched the ice on the whisky fade away a little more with every sway of the glass. The voice at my side shook me from my reverie.

"Oh, darling, I have kept you waiting, haven't I? I'm so sorry, dear."

The redhaired woman that had just arrived turned from me to the bartender.

"A drink, please! I haven't seen my friend in a long time, this deserves a celebration."

She turned to look at me once more, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"I have missed you so! I do believe a proper reunion is in order."

I smirked.

"You've heard my girl, here. Do you have any of those private small rooms free?"

I leaned on the chair, looking as menacing as I could muster. The bartender swallowed, and stuttered. "There's one… one at the end on the right, and the other is the second starting from the left."

"Oh, we will take that one," she placed some money on the bar and turned to me, "Shall we go, sugar?"

The pretty girl with the red hair took my hand and we left for the rooms. Maegor's Holdfast had five private rooms separated by velvet curtains, which didn't add a lot to privacy, but no one complained as long as they were out of sight. Instead of heading to the second room, we headed for the third. As soon as we entered, two tall men stood up from where they were seating. Both were dressed in identical suits, and would have looked intimidating to anyone but me. I towered over them.

"This room is busy, go find another." One of them snarled. My pretty companion and I drew closer to them, while she giggled.

"I'm so sorry; we must have gotten the wrong one!"

By then, I was close enough. I slammed my knee in the stomach of the one at my right, and before his friend had any time to react, the girl had already knocked him out. She was clearly more capable that she seemed. I knocked my victim in the back of the head with my gun.

"Well, at least that's done," she said, looking around. We had made almost no noise. That was a good thing. The girl extended her hand to me. "Nice to meet you, by the way. I'm Ygritte."

"Sandor Clegane."

"I noticed," she said wryly. "So, what do we do now?"

I looked around. "That bumbling idiot should be here by now."

Only a few moments later, a young, fat man came through the curtains. He was carrying a large device that I knew was the wire recorder we were going to use.

"I'm sorry! This thing is really heavy, Jon didn't say…"

"Enough!" I rasped, taking care not to raise my voice much. "We need to start that thing, lest we're too late."

And so the first part of our _brilliant_ plan was set in motion. We made sure the recorder was set near the curtain that separated us from the fourth room, and the three of us strained our ears to listen to the conversation that was taking place in the other room. The girl wasn't taking care of keeping her voice down, which was good for us.

"You are right, dear!" I heard her laugh. "You're so smart! I can see why your board has absolute trust in the way you handle the company. My father wouldn't dream about letting my brothers handle our business!"

"That's because your brothers are just _boys_," I heard the hateful voice of Joffrey Baratheon coming through. "I know exactly how to deal with my company. I have a lot of fools prancing about, but I know how to deal with them."

I heard Margaery Tyrell sigh. "I wish my father was like you. The Martells have been a thorn in our side for years, and he just can't handle them! What would you do, my love?"

Joffrey laughed. "The only way to deal with those kinds of people is getting them out of the game as soon as possible. If you're a traitor or an annoyance, you go."

"I wish you were the head of our company, Joff. Then you could deal with Oberyn Martell like you did with Eddard Stark."

I prayed the girl would hurry. We had no way of communicating with Snow, and he'd be arresting Cersei Baratheon in half an hour.

"Eddard Stark deserved worse," I could almost see Joffrey sulking, "he was a traitor, he broke his word. He should have gotten tortured and his body thrown to the sea so no one would find him."

"But still," Margaery pressed, her voice still pleasant, "at least you got rid of him, didn't you? You showed everyone what happens when they mess with you."

The boy laughed again. "I should have done worse, but, oh well, at least he'll bother us no longer, and soon I'll be rid of that idiot of a daughter of his."

I would have killed him, right there and then, but Ygritte's hand on my shoulder stopped me from rising.

"Let's not waste any more time. We've got what we needed. The boy will learn not to brag the hard way."

She was right. We turned of the recorder, and the boy, Samuel something, or maybe Samwell…Samwise? Whatever he was called, he made a sign through the curtain, and the other two officers that had been waiting approached us. I took care of handling the recorder, and take it to the car, but not before hearing those satisfactory words.

"Joffrey Baratheon, you are under arrest."


	13. Chapter 13

We had been in the police station for less than fifteen minutes when Jon Snow's car appeared, another officer escorting Cersei Baratheon out of it. She looked hassled but still with a look of pride and utmost contempt for everything surrounding her. She didn't even spare us a look as the officer led her to the interrogation room. Jon Snow stayed back, and turned to the boy beside me.

"Did everything go right, Sam?"

"Perfect, Jon," Sam answered eagerly, "he's sitting in the other room right now, and refuses to say another word, but we've got his words recorded, and Margaery Tyrell as a witness."

"All that's left now it's to see what we can get out of Cersei… you did a good job, Sam. Thanks for helping with this." Snow finished, clasping his friend's shoulder. Sam smiled and left. I expected Snow to go to where Cersei was being held, but he turned to me now.

"So, Joffrey confessed, albeit inadvertently. What makes you so sure then that Cersei's the guilty one?"

I looked down at him with my arms crossed in front of my chest. "I'm not sure. But Joffrey's never done anything without mummy's approval, and if there's one thing the boy likes, is to brag. If he had Stark killed, he'd boast about it. If he didn't have Stark killed, he'd boast about it all the same."

"And Cersei's got a better motive," Snow nodded, agreeing with me. "Well, let's see if we can lock them both up before Robb is done with Tywin Lannister."

With that, he left to conduct Cersei's interrogation. I followed. This was a show I wasn't about to miss.

I took a seat in the dark. No point in provoking the woman while Snow tried to gather a confession from her. If she noticed me, she gave no signs, as she turned to Snow. The boy began talking.

"Mrs. Baratheon, I'm sure you know why you've been brought here."

Cersei smirked.

"I have no idea, officer."

"You have been brought here to answer for your part in Eddard Stark's murder." Snow explained.

Cersei folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward.

"In that case… I'm not saying anything without a lawyer present. I'm sure you understand."

Jon Snow smiled. "Oh, I understand perfectly, m'am. I have no problem in calling a lawyer for you. It'll be harder, however, to find one for your son." At this Cersei's smile slipped. "I doubt anyone would want his case after his enormous blunder tonight."

I could tell she was trying to remain calm as she asked, "What do you mean? Where's Joffrey?"

Snow sat on the table and began his explanation of the events that evening. By the time he reached Joffrey's recorded confession, Cersei had gone pale. _Good_, I thought.

"So, as you see, your son is under arrest for Eddard Stark's murder and Sansa Stark's attempted murder."

Cersei seemed lost, and began speaking, "that's impossible. Why would he…" she looked down, obviously trying not to let any weakness show. "God, Joffrey…" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Clearly, your son doesn't regret what he's done," Snow went on, "he boasted about it, and even now, he refuses to make any statements to the contrary. What I cannot understand, Mrs Baratheon, is why?"

Cersei looked near a nervous breakdown. She was paler than before and looked cornered. This was the moment. Surely, she'd confess now. Whatever she might be, she would try and save her son. I was sure of it. And sure enough…

"It wasn't Joffrey. Is that what you wanted to hear? I did it. I hired that man to kill Stark."

She was looking at us with pure hatred, but we did not get to hear anything else as Sam snuck his head into the room and called us. We followed him out on the hallway.

"Jon, you need to hear this," Sam said, "Tormund himself went to interrogate Joffrey Baratheon, and by the end of it, he was so fed up, he ended up confessing all over again, even going as far as to give us the contact of the robber that shot your uncle."

Snow and I exchanged grim looks.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"He was all smiles, apparently. Tormund says he was going on and on about how his grandfather would take him out of there, and that none of us could touch a hair on his head. Says he could kill us all right here and still no one could touch him."

Snow looked at me, "but then, Cersei…"

"Bloody hell," I said, as I suddenly understood the situation. "She's covering for him."

Snow took the piece of paper his friend gave him, and we went back quickly to the interrogation room.

"Mrs. Baratheon," Snow started, more agitated than before, "can you explain how you contacted the lowlife that killed my uncle?"

She looked up, puzzled, "What do you mean? I…"

That moment of hesitation was all that was needed.

"You can't explain," I blurted out, forgetting I should have no part in this, "because you have no fucking idea of how to reach that bastard. Joff, however, he even gave us directions! What a helpful little boy, eh?" I slammed my hands on the table before us. "Stop covering for him, Cersei. We know he did it."

She looked down and didn't say anything for a while, until finally, her defeated voice reached out ears.

"It wasn't supposed… it was my idea at first. Stark wasn't supposed to die. We needed the deal with his company, and I thought, if we scared him a little…Joffrey told me to leave it in his hands, he was the head of the company now, but I never thought… He's always done what I told him to do before… but he's strong-headed… all boys his age are…"

"No, boys his age throw a tantrum and get pissed," Snow said. "He's a monster."

As Snow lifted her to arrest her for accessory for murder and god knows what else, she looked straight at me, her loath of me clear as day.

"You're a traitor. We gave you a job! Do you think you can go far after betraying the Lannisters? All for that red-headed little bitch? She must have worked you real well! She must fuck as prettily as she talks, doesn't she?"

I threw the table between us against a wall and in half a second I was right in front of her.

"As a rule," I growled, "I tend not to hit women. I'll gladly make an exception for you,"

"Clegane…" Snow warned me.

"A thief only sees thieves around him, they say. The fact that you're a slut doesn't make Sansa Stark one. Take her away," I turned to Snow, "before I do something I really won't regret."

I watched as they left, Cersei's blond hair the last thing through the door.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen_.

For the first time that night, I smiled.

* * *

><p>The case was closed. I felt a certain satisfaction. Joffrey and his mother were behind bars, as they always should have, but most importantly, the little bird was finally out of her cage. She was free. There was something, though… something nagging at the back of my mind. I stepped outside for a moment, since I still had to wait for the girl. I reached into my coat for a cigar.<p>

It happened fast, almost too fast.

When you're a soldier, good instincts are a nice advantage. To be able to sense your enemies, to know when to put a fight and when to leave. To know when you're being spied on. Aye, instincts are a good thing to have. When you have a brother like Gregor Clegane, instincts become the difference between life and death.

That's how I could sense the man standing behind me mere seconds before he attacked. It didn't take long. The man was old and not too built. There was something in his hand, but I was too fast for him, too well trained. I managed to grab a hold of his throat and push him against a wall. Whether the impact left him unconscious or dead wasn't my problem. I knelt to see what was on his hand. A syringe, with a needle that would have gone straight to my neck. If I had been slightly more distracted, I would have been a dead man.

Clearly this had been planned. The man obviously knew fighting was out of the question, as I would probably win. What bothered me was that this was clean, a little too clean to have been planned by someone like Joffrey or even Cersei. I remembered the shooting at the fundraising. _That _carried Joff's signature. This, though… but who? Tywin Lannister? The whole point of tonight's operation was making it fast and quiet. Snow had made sure only men he trusted were involved. And even then, why take me out of the game _after_ Joffrey's arrest?

The little bird. If something happened, despite myself I'd protect her and someone knew that. Someone wanted to leave her vulnerable. But she was safe, wasn't she? She was with Baelish, who, no matter how much I disliked the man, had so far come through, his tip about Stannis had been realm, and so had been his deal with Olenna Tyrell.

Baelish, who was rumoured to be courting the Arryn widow and temporary head of Arryn Airlines.

Arryn Airlines, which had fused with Stark Steel.

Baelish who, with Joffrey and Cersei out of the way, was the main influential shareholder in Crowned Stag Railroads.

Baelish, in a powerful position in three of the city's biggest companies.

Baelish, who had loved Catelyn Tully, and was now with the daughter that resembled his lost love so much.

Fuck.

I ran back to the station as fast as I could, and didn't stop until I got to Snow's office.

"The boy," I panted, "I need to talk to the boy. Right now."

"Clegane, what is the meaning of this?" Snow was clearly surprised, and seemed not to understand what I was saying. I had no time to waste with the kid.

"The boy, Snow! Right now or I swear I'll shoot you!"

He seemed to want to argue, but when I noticed the keys lying on his desk, I didn't give him time. I took them and left to the cell where Joffrey was locked.

"What do you want, dog?" He snarled as I walked in. No, no time to waste on this one, either.

"Littlefinger. It was him, wasn't it? He told you to get rid of Stark instead of just scaring him a little, didn't he?"

"I don't know what…" he started, but I interrupted.

"For hell's sake you idiot! You want a chance at lowering you sentence, this is it! Me, I'd like nothing better than to see you rot for the rest of your miserable life."

By now, Snow was standing behind me. Good, I needed witnesses.

Joffrey seemed to consider, until he said. "He said Stark was a traitor. He didn't know how to play the game. But I was smarter, he said, I didn't need him, and that I should show the world what happened to those who crossed me."

Of course. Littlefinger had known all along Joffrey was guilty. He had promised Tyrell he'd be locked, and there was no need for Sansa's statement. I felt something sinking in my stomach, dread curling up like a snake in my insides.

I decided didn't need to hear anything else. Instead, I ran.


	14. Chapter 14

I don't think I ever drove as fast in my life as I did then. All I knew is that suddenly, every look that bastard had thrown the little bird's way had a different meaning. Every word, every touch. I prided myself in being able to read people and gather their intentions. How could I have missed this?

I had only one advantage. He wouldn't be expecting me. I had no doubts now he had hired that man outside the station. I left the car a block away from his house, and quietly approached the place. The door was locked, so I went by the side, hoping to see what went on in the house.

Suddenly, through the window, I heard voices floating at me. I couldn't quite understand what was being said, but when I stood a little to watch, I had no trouble understanding what was going on.

He was kissing her. Kissing. Her. My little bird.

I saw her pushing him away, screaming something I could not decipher. I saw him taking her hands, and her trying to pull away. That was it. The git was a dead man.

Taking my gun, I smashed the window and aimed it at him. He managed to duck before my first shot, and I took the distraction to enter the room through the window.

"Sandor!" I heard her say, and suddenly she was at my side, her arms around me. Her eyes were bloodshot; clearly she had been crying. I took her by the arm and looked around. Baelish was nowhere in sight.

"I thought you were dead! He said you were dead! And then he told me I was to leave with him, and he said…"

"Little bird…"

"He kissed me! I didn't want him to, but he kissed me!"

"Sansa!" I yelled, and that got her attention. "I need to find the asshole. Hide. Now!"

However, the moment she stepped away from me, the lights went out. I raised my gun immediately, but I could see nothing in the dark, and there was almost no light coming from the windows. I tried to feel my way around me, looking for the girl. I whispered her name, but she didn't answer. I felt the now familiar prick of fear at the back of my neck. Where was she? Suddenly, the lights went on again. I turned around, my gun raised, and there she was. Baelish's hand over her mouth, his gun at her.

He smiled at me.

"That's as far as you go, Clegane. Lower your gun."

He had her by the waist, the gun resting in her temple. She was filled with terror and was looking at me beseechingly. I still had my gun pointed at the bastard.

"Let the girl go." I rasped, trying to remain calm even though I wanted nothing more than to jump at him, bash his face in, and take Sansa in my arms. "She doesn't have anything to do with this."

"No more than you do, and yet here you are. You shouldn't have gotten involved. Though I must admit, I didn't think you'd be smart enough to understand what was really going on."

I had to keep him talking. If Snow had any brains, after hearing Joffrey's words he would have sent a car to take Baelish. I needed time.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. Joffrey has never done anything without mummy's approval before. But trying to overtake all three companies… that's a bit too ambitious, Baelish, even for you."

He laughed. "There are no limits to a man's ambition, if he's cunning enough. But I have no time to waste speaking to you. Lower the gun."

I growled. "I don't think so".

At this, he smirked.

"You want to shoot me, you'll have to shoot her, I'm afraid"

He was right. There was no way I could get a clean shot without endangering her. I felt like laughing bitterly. She had been right, of course. For all my bravado, all that I tried to stay away; at the end of the day I could not bring myself to hurt her. Baelish smiled.

"Lower your gun, Clegane, I will not repeat myself."

I looked into her eyes, her terrified, tear-filled blue eyes, and slowly began to lower my gun. I gave her a small, sad, imperceptible smile that I think she somehow understood. _I'm sorry,_ I wanted to tell her, _I've condemned us both._

"Good," he said, and in a swift movement, he took his gun off Sansa's head and shot me. The combination of his lousy aim and my reflexes helped me avoid a certain death. It did not help me to avoid the bullet lodged in my side. I fell on my knees with a grunt just as Sansa let out a loud, painful scream.

"No, no, no!" I heard her scream. I could not bear to lift my head to see her, but I could hear her struggle. "Why? Why did you shoot him? He lowered the gun! Why? Why are you doing this?" she wailed.

"That's enough, sweetling," I heard him say calmly, and looked up to see Littlefinger releasing her. "Now, take your things and prepare to leave. If you stay here, you'll be charged with our friend's murder, and I'm sure you don't want that, do you?"

She took a look at me, her eyes hard for one second, before she looked back at Baelish and nodded sadly. I watched her leave to gather her stuff.

Petyr Baelish looked at me with utmost contempt.

"For all your training, all your toughness, here you are, kneeling in front of the better man just because you couldn't shoot the girl. It seems the big black Hound has a heart after all." He snorted derisively. "Men like you need to be the biggest, the strongest, and the meanest. You remind me of Brandon Stark, all boldness and arrogance, but he died just like the rest. Just like you will."

After saying this, he came closer to me. I caught the glint behind him.

"I despise men like you. You are nothing more than a drunkard, idiotic savage."

I let out a rough laugh as I placed my right hand on my leg. "Maybe," I lifted it a little, "but you're dead."

At that exact moment, Sansa smashed a vase to the back of his head. It didn't harm him much, but he was distracted for half a second, and that was all I needed. It only took another second for me to take my spare gun from my right leg and shoot him right through the back of his skull. He fell to the floor with a final thump. It was over.

The sting in my side became more noticeable now, as the adrenaline wore off. I fell on my face in the carpet floor.

"Sandor!"

I heard her scream, and her quick steps, and then she was turning me around. I realized now my vision was blurring, but I could still catch the fiery red of her hair, spilling like a curtain of blood as she loomed over me.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding so much! What do I do? What do I do?"

I felt her frantic hands pushing on my side, but she wasn't strong enough to stop the flow.

"The police, I need to call the police." Her voice sounded more and more far away with each word, and the colours were dimming too. My eyes were closing on their own will, and suddenly I felt her sticky hands on my cheeks, both the normal and the burned one.

"No, no, Sandor, stay with me! You can't do this, you can't leave me, you hear? You promised! You promised you wouldn't let them hurt me!"

It was all disappearing slowly. I caught loose words, like "Stay," "Don't", "Please". My eyes closed and I felt very dimly something wet on my face and something warm on my lips before darkness overtook me.


	15. Epilogue

So, as you can see, that's my story. The last case I took. Why am I here? Truth is, I was bloody tired of the city, of its people, of its mess. It was a never ending parade of corruption and lies. So, here I am, on a ship, staring at the sky blend with the sea as I move closer to London. I am leaning on the rail, my hat slightly askew, hiding half of my face. I normally don't give a damn whether people are frightened of me or my scars, but I'd like a quiet trip, and I have no need of bloody buggering parents telling me I scare the children.

The sun is setting and the horizon has taken a deep red colour, just like fire. I would have hated it before, but now it only reminds me of her. That, too, is part of the reason I left town. Damn woman. She comes through the door with her pretty face and her sweet voice and turns it all upside down. I should let it go, I want to. If I had stayed, I'd have been half afraid of meeting her at every corner, every turn. And what's the point? What does a Fifth Avenue gal like her have to do with a dog like me, I ask you?

I know she tried to reach me for a week after Littlefinger's death. The first three days I was in the hospital, I pretended to be asleep when she visited, and then I asked the nurse not to let anyone in. In any case, I discharged myself on the very next day. After that, I never took any messages, nor did I visit the church where we had met that one time. If she had stood there and tried to thank me for all I did, I don't know how I would have reacted. Probably kiss her senseless and ask her how thankful she felt now. So I left, my tail between my legs like the miserable old Hound I've become. She'll be fine. The Baratheon-Lannisters are in prison, her dear Robb has become the thorn in Tywin Lannister's side, and Snow, after such a high profile case, finally became Chief. She won't lack protection. She won't need me.

She won't.

"A lovely sight, isn't it?"

The voice that is shaking me from my thoughts comes from my right. I freeze. Impossible. So I turn. And sure enough, it's her. My own personal little devil. God, she looks beautiful. A simple white and blue dress that reaches slightly past her knees, her hair pin up in curls over her shoulders, her lips as red as blood, and she is smiling. She was leaning over the rails too, but now she stands straight.

"Little bird?" That's all that manages to come out of my mouth.

"Hello, Sandor." She smiles pleasantly, as if we were meeting on the street instead of a ship in the middle of the ocean.

"What the hell?" I recover quickly. "What are you doing here, Sansa?"

She turns back to the ocean. "I needed a change of air, after… everything. I wanted to travel, see new places, meet new people… and I came to find you. You've become a difficult man to get in touch with, you know?"

This is getting more insane by the second.

"And how did you know I'd be here?"

She smiles and takes her ticket out of a pocket. Without saying a word, she points to the name of the ship and the company, with a little proud look. S.S. Saltwife by the Greyjoy Iron Fleet Line. _Greyjoy_… as in Theon Greyjoy, old friend of Robb Stark, married to Jeyne Greyjoy, Sansa Stark's best friend.

"God, Birdie, is there any place your family _doesn't_have any connections in?"

"Mmm, I don't think so, no." She claps once, as if she was getting ready for something. "So, what will we do once we get there?"

"We?"

She nods. "Of course! London is a big city; surely you won't leave me alone in it, would you? I would not know where to start!"

I grunt. "Well, you won't like London, let me tell you that. It rains all the time, and you won't have any of your little high society friends there."

She smiles again and she intertwines her arm with my own. The nerve of her!

"Then I'll be glad for the company. Unless you _want_me to leave. Sandor…" she seems serious as she looks up to me. "I know what I want now." She stares at me with her big, bright blue eyes, lit up by the twilight, and I already know (much as I hate it) that it's too late for me. I could never refuse her anything she asked for. Not even me.

I pull her closer and without another word I lean in for a kiss. I stop at almost half an inch from her, giving her an outing. At this, she groans and closes the distance between us. I have never, ever felt anything like this. The taste of her, her soft lips, the little sounds she makes; how can I do anything but worship this woman? It lights a fire in me, one I fear (The way I've always feared fire, and perhaps always will) but at the same time one I yearned for. I can't tell for how long our lips melt together, or in what moment our breaths mingled, but after a second, an eternity, we pull apart. She's smiling at me, and the sun pales in comparison.

"Stupid little bird." I say, as I put my arm around her shoulders, and she leaves hers around my waist. The sun is setting, a mild breeze whips our hair, and as we both stare at the beginning of dusk, I feel, for the first time in a long time, my damned life is actually worth living.


End file.
